


Sailing into the Afterlife

by Slippage



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Hand Jobs, Necrophilia, Public Hand Jobs, Romance, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:00:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29592477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slippage/pseuds/Slippage
Summary: Yennefer gives Geralt a pleasant surprise at a Skellige funeral.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Kudos: 5





	Sailing into the Afterlife

**Author's Note:**

> If you have an idea or request for a story, feel free to reach out! I'm always looking for new concepts.
> 
> returnjedi18@tutanota.com

The King is Dead, Long Live the King - Skellige

It was a cloudy evening when Geralt of Rivia rode into the city of Kaer Trolde, weary from the shipwreck he had been a party to, but nonetheless excited with thoughts of lilac and gooseberries weighing heavily on his mind.

Handing Roach’s reigns off to a stableboy, Geralt approached a large gathering by the castle docks, bathed in torchlight and an air of grief.

Deftly maneuvering through the crowd as only a witcher could, he laid eyes on a rustic, though not undignified, funeral ship. True to Skellige tradition, the prow was adorned with green and gold nordic runes, and the deck weighed down with Crowns and more battle-axes than one could count.

Wrenching his gaze from the sacrificial fortune, Geralt turned toward the funeral procession. Four men carrying a litter on their shoulders, marching solemnly, their footsteps forceful against the snow encrusted ground. Their charge appeared to have had some nobility, and rightly so; peasants do not receive such send offs.

Following behind was the local druid, clad in heavy robes and a cloth hat interwoven with bones. As the procession came to a stop at the water’s edge, the druid began to speak.

_“Our time amongst the living is but the wink of an eye. What’s left when we’re gone? How shall we be remembered? Will they speak of us with respect?”_ He paused meaningfully as he glanced at a pair of women to his left. _“Or disdain?”_

_“Bran was a great man. We shall remember him as a hero!”_

Even in the darkness, Geralt could observe the women’s features clearly. The younger, clearly beside herself with grief, and the older, wiping a tear from her eye but with an expression as cold as granite.

The girl forcefully resisted the attempts of her fellow mourners to console her, and began to move towards the ship before the druid grabbed her small arm.

_“You need not do this, child.”_ he said, in what appeared to be one last attempt to bring sanity to the proceedings.

Tears streaming down her face, she looked at the face of the dead man now being lowered into the ship. _“I know. But I want to.”_ With the druid’s attempt at reason thwarted, she strode, purposefully now, towards the ship. Murmurs swept the crowd of onlookers as she began to unclasp her green dress, allowing it to fall gently around her ankles, leaving her bare.

Her naked form, unblemished by age or hardship, shivered as it was exposed to the biting northern wind. Reaching a hand between her legs, she slipped two fingers into her cunt and sent a trickle of juices running down her legs.

_“Tis madness!”_ Geralt heard from an elderly woman in the crowd. The guard by the druid spoke up with a voice that just managed to pierce the quiet. _“Birna should be the one goin’, they shared a bed longer.”_ The druid turned to him with a steely gaze. _“Silence. ’Tis her decision.”_

The girl, either having not heard the commotion or simply not caring for the things they said, proceeded to climb into the ship and gently get down on all fours. Her womanhood, now as red and puffy as her eyes, visible for all to see. One hand on the bottom of the ship to brace herself, and the other quickly rubbing her cunny, she turned her head around to face the crowd and gave a meaningful look towards a torch bearer.

Geralt missed what happened next, because at that moment his senses were overtaken with the scent of gooseberries, and he felt a soft touch on his shoulder.

There Yennefer stood by his side, clad as always in black and white. Raven feathers adorned the neck of her thigh length dress, the edges of which were lined with black velvet. Geralt could glimpse the subtle curve of her pearl white chest, as she had decided to go without the top two buttons of her ensemble. Beneath this, she had stockings of black lace, beginning where her dress ended, and disappearing down her high heeled riding boots.

Her hand gracefully moved from his shoulder and down into the crotch of his pants where her inexplicably warm fingers wrapped comfortably around his shaft.

Geralt was at a loss for words as they locked gazes, so it was Yen who spoke first, casting her piercing blue eyes towards the naked maiden prostrating herself in front of them.

_“As they were in life, so now in death. One does not get used to these island customs quickly.”_ Her voice a mixture of the coldest mountain and the fire that lies beneath it.

Yennefer clearly did not need her eyes to pleasure a man, as her fingers tugged him to hardness and her wrist worked in smooth motions back and forth, all while feigning ignorance of the scene she might create. Geralt, as he was so often with her, found himself at a loss for words.

Realizing he looked a fool staring open-mouthed at the woman he’d come so far to see, Geralt wrenched his gaze away from her and back to the funeral.

The torch bearer, along with one of the litter bearers, had climbed into the ship and were positioning the noble’s body behind the maiden in a kneeling position. Her head now pressed against the deck as she pushed her ass towards the dead man, both hands working across her womanhood with frantic abandon, a string of drool leaking from her mouth.

_“What do you mean?”_ asked Geralt, confused.

His eyes crossed slightly as Yennefer moved behind him and leaned her head on his shoulder. Her warm breath enticing his ear sending shivers down his spine as she sent her other hand down to cup his balls.

_“They would ride like that.”_ she explained, nodding towards the torch bearer, who now had the dubious honor of unlacing the noble’s trousers and positioning the deceased’s limp but sizable penis at the entrance to the maiden’s womanhood. _“Most evenings in fact, down one street and up another, both of them astride a great draft horse. Him swinging his shaft around wildly, while she lay tits to horseback, waiting to be impaled like another one of Radovid’s pikemen.”_

Geralt’s eyes widened slightly, his mind racing with the unspeakable images. _“How’d you ever manage to sleep?”_ Yen’s fingers were pure sorcery on his manhood as precum began to leak through the fabric of his pants.

Yen giggled despite herself. _“I didn’t, more often than not. And I can only imagine how Birna took it.”_ She motioned towards the steely eyed woman. _“Although to tell you the truth… I would have joined them if they had asked.”_

To reinforce this revelation of debauchery, Yennefer raised herself up on tiptoes in order to lick the circumference of Geralt’s ear, the moisture left behind reacting with the cold air and imparting a stinging sensation which he struggled to endure.

By now the noble had been positioned and the litter bearers were pushing the ship into the current with long-oars, sending it out to sea. The maiden meanwhile had begun to slowly but surely slide onto the cold cock, rocking herself back and forth as she fucked her dearly departed into the afterlife.

Her faint moans of pleasure and sorrow, coupled with the moist sounds of her dripping cunt, rose above the crackling of the torches and the disapproving chattering of all those assembled.

The spectacle was becoming too much for Geralt, as he felt his balls begin to tighten within Yennefer’s grip. Yen felt this as well, and devoted both hands to pistoning his cock with ferocious speed before she bit down hard on his ear.

This last stimulation sent Geralt flying over the edge as his hips began to buck. His cock, trapped in the tight embrace of the sorceress, fired its load inside the fabric confines and rendered his lower half a sticky mess.

Panting now, and doing his very best to not be noticed, Geralt shuddered in overstimulation as Yennefer’s hands gave his cock and balls a parting squeeze before she withdrew them back into view. It was painfully obvious how pent-up he had been in her absence as his cum coated her delicate hands and dripped down her wrists into her sleeves.

Lifting her hands to her face, Yennefer began massaging the fluid onto her cheeks and under her eyes, taking care not to disturb her perfectly applied makeup.

_“I swear, Geralt. For as sensible a people as these Skelligers are, they are woefully lacking when it comes to proper moisturization techniques.”_

Geralt, still catching his breath, could only stare in admiration at the woman he loved. Her confidence matched her beauty, and served as his rock whenever he needed strength. He knew that he would do whatever it took to stay with her. For good this time.

Out of the corner of his eye, Geralt saw the druid signal towards a pair of archers stationed above the city gates. They nocked their arrows, dipped them briefly into the burning brazier beside them, and unleashed their fiery payload into the night sky.

Yennefer leaned back into Geralt’s shoulder, resting her head as the two pinpoints of light lazily arched across the heavens until reaching their final destination amongst the belongings of the nobleman.

_“Come, Geralt. I’ve had my fill of ritual sacrifices for the day, and we have a banquet to attend.”_ She turned, hand trailing down his back as she walked towards the keep, eyes sparkling like the stars above her.

Moving to follow her, Geralt paused for a moment to witness the funeral ship as it approached the horizon. The last image of the maiden her friends and family saw, was her naked form silhouetted by flames, as her wails of passion turned into screams of pain.


End file.
